


Souvenirs from Home

by penguistifical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, I can write a little Lonely Eyes PWP, M/M, as a treat, this is not how dread horror powers are supposed to be used I'm pretty sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical
Summary: “Think of me while I’m gone,” Peter says each time he leaves Elias for the ocean and the Lonely. Sometimes he says it a little nastily, and sometimes he surprises them both with the hint of honest plaintiveness that steals into his voice.He’s never needed to say the phrase “Think of me while I’m here,” because that’s something Elias takes to doing both with Beholding powers and absolute relish.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 78





	Souvenirs from Home

**Author's Note:**

> cw: being unsure of reality
> 
> I can write a little PWP as a treat 
> 
> mmm some of these Eye abilities may be a stretch but let's do it anyway

“Think of me while I’m gone,” Peter says each time he leaves Elias for the ocean and the Lonely. Sometimes he says it a little nastily, and sometimes he surprises them both with the hint of honest plaintiveness that steals into his voice. 

He’s never needed to say the phrase “Think of me while I’m here,” because that’s something Elias takes to doing both with Beholding powers and absolute relish, painting Peter's face with kisses and his mind with the memories of kisses past whenever they have a chance to privately reunite.

The subtler abilities of the Eye have always leaned towards teasing out confidences, and intimacies shared by a servant of the Lonely are tantalizing secrets.

Elias doesn’t abuse the privilege by mentioning said memories to anyone else, or by exploring any sights he hasn’t personally had a hand (or tongue) in creating.  
  
But the beholder does enjoy spreading open and admiring Peter’s recollections, showing and reshowing how Peter tastes and feels under Elias’s mouth and hands, how Peter sounds when he comes, how _desperate_ Peter looks when he begs.  
  
Peter doesn’t ask for a blindfold, but finds it much easier to keep his eyes closed when the avatar of the Eye wants to play like this. It’s dizzying otherwise, the contradiction of the reality in front of him and the sights Elias is choosing for him to Know. The imposition of knowledge is something of a poisoned dagger in the Eye’s arsenal, and not typically used for sensuality as Elias is doing now.  
  
Peter’s aware that he’s holding the other avatar, a warm armful of Beholder that’s draped over his stomach and chest, but he can’t help pressing backwards as Elias teases forward the memory of Peter’s hair being pulled, just enough to sting in a way he savored then and now. Elias sighs in satisfaction at Peter's instinctual gasp, and moves his hands to trace ticklish circles across Peter's chest.

Even as Elias is exploring his stomach with the illusory touches of memory like he's flipping through some sort of sensual scrapbook, Peter can tell he’s also keeping a careful and monitoring Eye on the present. If there’s one feeling Peter’s gotten used to, it’s the sensation of being watched. The mindfulness is equally to allow Elias to enjoy the moment, but also to make sure that what he’s doing never crosses the line of being too much. It’s a consideration that allows the avatar of the Lonely to extend trust, to allow his memories to be playthings. Peter wouldn’t do this with anyone else.

Elias leaves off running his lips just underneath Peter’s collarbone to chuckle.

“I appreciate the thought,” Elias says in response to the unspoken consideration. “But it’s not as if you _could_ do this with anybody else.”

“Would have imagined that anybody serving the Eye would have its blessing for tricks like these. It’s the ultimate voyeur, after all.” Peter manages, as Elias presses him into the bed with a reminiscence of being bound.

“As if your patron doesn't enjoy indulging in the narcissism of you getting off by witnessing yourself, like I'm not even here." Elias says, looking over Peter's neck with a considering smile. "If there's something Lonelier, I'm sure I can't imagine what. And, if you’re remaining this articulate, I’m sure I'm clearly not treating you properly.”  
  
Peter wants to protest the hypocrisy of the idea that Elias isn't equally enjoying himself, wants to tell Elias that he is incredibly aware of the beholder's presence in his mind and in his bed. But, Elias merely hums and runs his hand down Peter’s face, coupling the caress with the Knowledge of how it had felt minutes ago when he'd been holding Peter’s lower lip between his teeth, slowly flicking his tongue over bitten sensitized skin in time to Peter’s shaky breaths. Peter can’t help but inhale sharply in the present as well, and feels Elias give his cheek a soft but mocking pat.

“Shh, Peter. I’ve got you,” Elias croons, the words so falsely sugared that they sound more menacing than comforting, but it’s perversely familiar enough that Peter relaxes when Elias takes his chin in hand.

He tilts Peter’s head back and chains a line of quick kisses down his neck to the hollow of his throat. It’s light, ticklish, and Peter jolts under his hands in surprise as the last kiss suddenly turns sharp and lasting. Peter groans and shifts underneath the beholder as he’s shown his own memory of receiving a lovebite a year ago while Elias works his teeth over the exact same inch of skin.  
  
Elias shows him the present mark too, when he’s finished: a quick flash in his mind of a bruise that will certainly flush and remain a lovely purple until the avatar of the Lonely misses being held - at which point it will heal on the spot.

“Don’t worry about it attracting attention until then,” says Elias, pausing to lave a stripe over Peter’s shoulder. “It’ll be neatly hidden behind your whistle.” He grins when Peter only kisses his palm in response, a grin that widens when he sees Peter’s arms twitch up slightly against the invisible sight of phantom fingers from the past that press his wrists into the pillow.

As if to illustrate his helplessness, Elias drags the sharp edge of a fingernail slowly down Peter’s chest, keeping him pinned by nothing but knowledge of when he had been held down. He continues trailing his hand down Peter’s stomach, but stops tantalizingly short of actually touching his prick, instead beginning to flicker through Peter’s memories of orgasms.

Peter’s legs are shaking and he can’t keep his hips from thrusting up in small quivering jerks. He’s unsure if the hands running up his thighs are from the Elias in the present or whether that’s Elias Showing him exactly how he’d welcomed him back to port four months ago.

“Closer to five months, my darling.” Elias tells him, even as Peter sees, behind his eyelids, Elias looking up at him from between his legs, mouth stuffed full of Peter’s cock. “And really, it _hurts_ that you don’t even remember.” As he says the word ‘hurts,’ Elias underscores his point by dragging his nails down the outside of the other man's thigh. 

Peter writhes underneath him, back arching up slowly, each degree his spine curves matched to another memory flashing through his mind of Elias making him come. 

“Please,” he gasps out. “ _Please.”_

The word echoes in his mind as Elias delights in showing him image after image of Peter flushed and needy and unsatisfied, a veritable kaleidoscope of pleading flickering behind his clenched eyelids.  
  
Peter’s hips push upwards uselessly against the sight of Elias straddling him. He realizes that Elias’s face is actually next to his on the pillow when the beholder kisses his temple, and questions with mock sincerity, “Something on your mind, my dear?”  
  
When Peter only pants in response, Elias chuckles, low and warm, and then drags his tongue through the tears that have pooled in the rim of Peter’s ear. 

“Had enough?” Elias asks, and when Peter both nods and thinks, _Yes, you bastard,_ as clearly as possible, he wraps his hands around Peter’s cock.

“No more memories for now,” Elias sighs against his chest, quickly pumping his hands along the other avatar’s prick. “You’re so lovely and pliant like this, Peter. I want to watch you come, with no distractions. And besides...I’ll show you next time.”

Peter comes all over Elias’s hands and his own stomach, and it’s just as well that the avatar of the Eye isn’t attempting to show him anything as his vision whites out for a few moments. He drifts for a moment with Elias pressed into his side, the beholder slowly stroking his arm and stroking over his thoughts.  
  
As he regains himself, Peter keeps his eyes closed. The bed moves slightly as Elias rises, and Peter hears him padding around the room. He can’t help the smile that ghosts briefly across his face as Elias gently brushes a view of his beloved ocean behind his eyes, a soft picture that lasts in place of a warm presence until Elias returns to the bed.

He feels Elias pushing a glass into his palm, and obligingly holds onto it. Elias slowly runs a washcloth between his legs and over his stomach, taking his time with the clean-up, petting along the damp skin afterwards.  
  
Peter feels the bed rise and dip as Elias moves to sit next to him to massage his legs.

“It’s almost like you knew they were sore,” Peter tells the room, and hears a soft sound of amusement from his partner, as Elias kneads small firm circles on the inside of his thighs. He can't help the small groans of appreciation that feel like they're being pressed out of him by Elias's hands, and Peter sinks backwards, relaxing.

The glass almost wobbles out of his grip and Elias quickly moves up to his side to catch the drink before it can tumble to the floor. He coaxes Peter into having a few sips of what turns out to be water with mint, slowly wrapping both their hands around the glass. His firm hold around Peter’s is tangible and grounding enough that Peter opens his eyes slightly, finally meeting Elias’s cool grey gaze.  
  
“Let me care for you a bit,” murmurs Elias, and if there’s a hint of plaintiveness that mirrors the way Peter sometimes says goodbye, neither of them mentions it.

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever start to write a thing and it breaks off into three pieces one of which is pwp and one is pwp but it's more soft and the third is dread horror  
> well, here's the pwp  
> and the other two should show up at some point
> 
> thank you very much to everybody who leaves kudos and comments, you are all fantastic and I really do appreciate it a lot


End file.
